


The Spider and The Scalphunter.

by GingerbreadJim



Category: Sherlock (TV), Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 16:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerbreadJim/pseuds/GingerbreadJim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick introduction into the ship of Periarty. And how it came about. Starting with the duo in a not so familiar situation, which may lead to the discovery of how they met one another, and how they stayed together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spider and The Scalphunter.

"Oh.. love.." It was the pitiful tone of a Criminal in love, a Criminal feeling remorse- and perhaps unashamedly a Criminal fuelled by desire. 

"God- I didn't realise the bruises would stay _this ___long.."

The natural approach, palms resting on shoulder blades, gently reaching up to the top of the shoulder- keeping hands firmly away from neck. 

"I'm so bloody sorry-" 

The Criminal gave a chaste kiss, just along one of the darker rows of bruised rings on the blonde's neck. "I know.." Peter Guillam let his newspaper fall to a disheartened heap in his lap as he turned to face his lover. "I'm sorry too.." Raising up one hand to lightly trace the thinner and fading band of bruises on the other man's neck, he frowned. He had caused it. Just like the marks on his own neck were the trademark of the other. 

After withdrawing his hand, he tilted his head back to ease the strain of twisting his neck to see the other, apparently waiting for a question to be asked- otherwise the man wouldn't have come there. "So. Coffee or Tea?" A pale hand reached forward to sweep some of Peter's stray blonde strands of his fringe away from his eyes. "Tea. Of course." He scoffed in reply and rolled his eyes. "You should know that by now." 

The scoff was only met with an almost shrill protest- in a suddenly thick Irish accent. "I DO know that by now thank you very much!" The clash of a slammed cup on the marble counter prompted Peter to turn around, much to the amusement of the other. "How many sugars do you take?!" The man exaggerated his movements as he started spooning overflowing amounts of the white powder into the empty cup, giving a surprised face that was only met with a temporary glare from Guillam. "James- Stop!" 

He halted his hand, the cup nearly halfway full with sugar. "That much, huh?" Jim Moriarty's smug smile came into play as he tipped the sugar back out into the container, chuckling to himself as he filled the right amounts. "You know, Sebastian got so pissed once that I did this to him- but with salt. He didn't even _notice ___the salty tea." Guillam's face softened as he looked on, Jim now resuming the normal practice of making tea. "Then again your Sniper is somewhat of a full time drunk American." Was the retort that could be heard. Peter didn't particularly like the sniper. Not one bit. Since he first laid eyes on the man he had a grudge. Mainly because of the fact that he reminded him of his own 'Right hand man': Ricki Tarr.

__They were on the same levels almost. Sebastian being a sniper for Jim, and Ricki being Peter's main Scalphunter for his more important jobs nowadays. He had held the same mistrust in Ricki that he did to Sebastian, they acted so alike some days, and it wouldn't have surprised the blonde if they were brothers._ _

__"If it keeps him happy, he does his job happy- Satisfaction all around. He hasn’t failed me quite yet, my dear.” It was as if Jim was talking to the teacups instead of Peter at that point, stirring until all the sugar had dissolved in the murky midst of milk and tea. “Even though I know you’re expecting him to-“ Placing the cups onto two saucers, Jim came over from the counter to the table where Peter sat, gripping each saucer in each hand with ease. “And waiting for the moment to go ‘I told you so!’ “  
Just as he placed the cups down, he received a playful hit from the rolled up newspaper. “I never say that.” Peter wanted to get at least one word in edgeways during one of the Irishman’s rambles. He didn’t mind the man going off on a tangent. Why would he? Despite the somewhat long lectures, what Jim did say most of the time did make sense; Even when he was a little on the tipsy side. The first time he had endured one of the Criminal’s lectures was shortly after they met, Jim psychoanalysing a taxi driver to the point he had nearly made the driver cry. Moriarty was in a foul mood that day, so it was to be expected. _ _

__Snapping out of the quick flashback, he realised that the newspaper had slipped out of his hands, and somehow ended up on page 6 open in Jim’s. “Anything good? Or just the usual?” The query was met with a silent shrug and a sip of tea. “Same old same old. We’re soon to be at war- The usual.” Being in The Circus, Peter was accustomed to the headlines of tension and conflict._ _

__“Hm.”_ _

__At the sound of the non-impressed Jim, Peter raised a brow that disappeared temporarily under his fringe. “What?”_ _

__“Hm.”_ _

__He repeated the noise again, a smile breaking out across his face, hidden behind the pages. “What? Tell me- You don’t think there’s going to be a war?” The blonde sighed helplessly as he took a rather large sip that time. “Oh. Not really. No. Doubt it. Highly doubt it.” He concluded his moment with the rolling up of the newspaper and placing it back in Peter’s lap. It was after a few sips of tea himself when he realised the two blue eyes staring at him unblinkingly. “What?” James shrugged at the other, dismissing his recent opinions like a child would dismiss the crayon on the wall being his own doing. “You’re barmy.” Peter put on his best cockney accent to accuse the other, which strangely enough resulted with a knock on the door._ _

__The Irishman rose from his seat, taking another quick sip before pushing his chair in. “I know. You still don’t believe I was in the 21st century a month ago, do you?” His voice was mocking, yet the look in his eyes was sincere. It took less than a second for Jim to reach the door, but when he was there he couldn’t help but start to fluff his hair back and straighten his collar. “Just open it!” From across the room Peter had started to chuckle about Jim’s antics and averted his eyes for just a minute to get out a cigarette._ _

A minute was all they needed. 

__Key in lock. Turned left. Twice. Pull handle back. Open door._ _

__Being a master in his own art, The Consulting Criminal scanned his eyes over the three men that stood before him in the doorway. Deducing everything in a matter of seconds, and letting none of the information go to waste. Before he even had time to warn the blonde, he was cut off by the man at the front of the pack._ _

__

_“Don’t move, unless you’re thinkin’ of redecoratin’ the halls with blood.”_

**Author's Note:**

> A little birthday treat for the Peter in my life~ <3


End file.
